Just a quick recap of Sunday to give some shouts. Nothing particularly quippy or dishy about it, just notable. And I did not have my camera, so no pics.
The charming
Mr. Sikes was
back in the Bay Area to present some research over at Berkeley.
Rick, formerly of SF, was back from Manhattan to get his stuff out of storage.
Rick and I had done the happy hour thing at Sadlands Friday night and accompanied me to Zack's birthday party. I now have Kevin's brother's Jeep as a loaner, which I was finding difficult to drive. Ironically, it is exactly the model and color of Rick's beloved Jeep he had when he lived here (even so far as to create www.greenjeep.com, now defunct) and he was thrilled to drive it and relive his SF days.
I went to
look at an apartment yesterday morning, and called Sikes to meet up for brunch at the Squat and Gobble in the Castro. Rick was just waking up and joined us a little later. Although I had much to do yesterday afternoon, the sunshine and good company were enough to lure me away for a while. I was still hoping to get some work done in the afternoon, but such did not come to pass. Rick still had his rental car--and he had paid for a full tank of gas and wanted to use it, so we took Sikes on a brief driving tour of the City, and headed over to Kelly's Mission Rock for a beer on the Bay. Mission Rock used to be full of partying/drinking/dancing fags on Sundays, but yesterday it was only about a dozen tables, half of which looked like an after-church crowd. But we were happy to have cold beer in the sun on the water. The sun on the Bay though, was
brutal. My forearms could be lobster claws.
We cruised around, passed the ballpark, took third down the Embarcadero, gave our local history anecdotes, and stopped at
Fort Point under the southern anchor of the Golden Gate Bridge. From there we tried to come up with another good, sunny, outdoor bar venue and we took Sikes back to where we met: The Metro. The Metro is great on sunny Sunday afternoons, and we were not lacking for friends--new and old-- for afternoon delight. (Of course, I also ran into an ex or two. Them's the risks.) Shouts to Michael, Mike, and my new librarian buddies Ray (Stanford) and BlankingOnIt (Berkeley).
I was steering clear of liquor and happy to slowly sip my CB in the sun. However, many margaritas later, my companions were quite jolly. Our crowd was migrating to Moby's, but we needed dinner and stopped in at Fuzio's. As we were leaving Rick saw a friend of his who convinced us to join in the candlelight march/vigil marking the 25 years of AIDS. It was scheduled to start at 8:00, and at five to the sun hadn't set yet so the candles were more symbolic. Maybe they were waiting for sunset as nothing happened for half an hour. It was getting cooler as the evening started, and I ran into the
Anonymous Public Figure, who gallantly gave his blazer to Sikes.
On a side note, it was nice to see APF again. We had not talked since our
breakfast date, which was fine. But I have the idea that he may not have ever called back because he read the blog and knew I wasn't all that into him. Granted, one breakfast date does not a relationship make, but I can't shake the feeling that I broke up with someone via the blog. That is
so two thousand six.
I was still in the t-shirt and shorts I had left the house in at 9:00 to look at the apartment on top of Buena Vista Heights. The sun set behind the hill and I was freezing. I left Sikes with Rick and hopped a cab home, threw on some jeans and put boots in a bag and took the jeep back to the Castro. I was able to get home, back, and park, before Rick and Sikes made it to the end of their march--which was all of one block from Harvey Milk Plaza (aka the Castro Muni station) to the B of A at the corner of Castro and 18th. Not so much a "march" as a "stroll."
Considering how much time we spent at dinner, and now another hour at the vigil with the waiting the walking and the talking, by the time we got to Moby's the crowd was meager and none of our friends were present. We had a beer anyway and hung out, then I pressed them to go for the final hour of
Sundance. Hey, 9:30 to 10:30--we could get in a couple of spins. Rick had never seen such a thing, and Sikes had been before, so this seemed like a great idea.
Lots of friends were still there. I got some dances in with some pros and got Sikes and Rick out once or twice. Kevin, Shawn, and others from Friday night were there so there were friends all around. We shut the place down and went to Badlands.
This tale has become a ramble and I should stop. Except that all the crazy shit went down at Badlands. Drinking, dancing, whoring. We closed down Badlands too. Kind of a scary thing to do on a Sunday night. I miss being a student.
We ran into another guy from Friday night at Badlands. Side note: We have a friend (DJ) who is big (like solid, not fat big), tall, around 40 and has a
voracious sexual appetite boys for who look 18ish, tall (but shorter than he is) and about as thick around as broomstick. He recently broke up with his 'boyfriend' (whom the rest of us adored this time around) and within two weeks had a new one for this party. I met this person, but it was a good twenty minutes before I clued in that I was talking to a guy. Exceptionally fair with should-length, white-blond hair and delicate features, I thought she was just a lovely girl with a slim figure and no chest. Once I got to know him a little bit I found him to be nice and rather quick. And only 20. For fuck's sake DJ, where do you pick these boys up?
Sure it was catty, but he was so out of place at 20 at a 30th birthday with a bunch of pushing 40s, and so androgynous, and so new, that he quickly earned a nickname. Some guys were referring to him as the ABBA child (if ABBA had a child, that's what he would look like). I about spit out my drink when someone asked me if I had seen
Veronica Mars. I will say he is a foot taller than she and about the same weight.
But that was a digression. Badlands Sunday night was summer night fun time. I became the object of attention of a professional psychic. Sikes was grabbed by shirtless muscle guy who planted one on him for a minute or two. Kevin had to fireman's carry his drunk boyfriend home. And Rick got lots of attention and an invitation to breakfast.
Sunday: apartment hunting, brunch, tour, bayside beer, national historic monument, deckside margaritas, dinner, candlelight vigil, three clubs, new friends, dark kisses, country dancing, waltzing, and freak dancing.
To all who make the most of a weekend, I and my sunburned forearms salute you.
An earthquake rocked me out of bed at about half past five this morning, making me scramble for shoes and a doorframe. I didn't feel any aftershocks. 
